Bruce Plays His Cards Right
by Elbonio
Summary: Bruce Fortsyth and Debbie McGee in an erotic encounter.


As Bruce Forsyth pulled down the tight, white panties of Debbie McGee he took a sneaky glance at the label in the back. 100% polyester. "Paul, you cheap bastard" he thought to himself, but couldn't resist a cheeky smile "I guess the Wizbit cheques are few and far between these days".

He pushed Debbie's naked buttocks against the pebbledash wall of his Devon cottage and felt them clench - was it with fear or ecstasy? He couldn't tell, but he liked to think it was a little of both.

Fondling her seemingly eternally pert breasts, Bruce suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a Hyundai Sonata being driven in second gear, followed by screeching brakes and the sound of a door being slammed. Paul had arrived.

"Good", thought Bruce with a mischievous grin. He glanced at Debbie but she was too lost in her own orgasm to notice the imminent arrival of her husband - so imminent he was sure to catch them both embroiled in the sin of adultery.

Bruce unzipped the fly on his tartan plus fours and threw his flat cap behind him. Gingerly but with some haste he cradled his now throbbing love muscle just in front of the bearded clam of the most famous magician's assistant in the world. "And now for Brucie's bonus" he whispered as he slid his aged pecker deep inside her.

She could barely let out a moan before Paul came bounding round the corner. He was still in the tuxedo he wore for all of his magic shows - having just been stood up by his life-long assistant and wife whilst filming a gig for Living TV.

His pace quickening, Paul strode towards the two lovers with mad, fiery eyes fixed upon their rhythmic reciprocation - a socket wrench brandished menacingly in his clenched fist.

As he neared the pair his strides turned to a run and as his short, stubby legs moved faster he let out a piercing scream. Raising the wrench above his head he prepared to land what he intended to be a fatal blow to the temple of the man who had his penis inside his woman.

Swift like a well-oiled mechanism, Bruce swivelled his body round and caught Paul's arm mid-swing. He pushed back against the rampaging midget madman and tussled with him as though they were two boys scrapping in a playground - his purple headed warrior still stood to attention and flapping about like an epileptic sea bass.

With a single, smooth motion Bruce pulled out the machete he had concealed in the back of his trousers and brought the knife across the throat of Paul, knocking him to the ground. He held the knife there for a few moments then looked him straight in the eye and whispered "you'll like this..." before slitting his throat.

As Paul lay bleeding, the life ebbing away from him he turned his head towards Debbie who had begun scrambling for her cheap underwear. As he draw his final breath he mouthed to her "not a lot....", before slipping away into the next world.

Calmly Bruce was wiping the blood from his blade on the cuffs of his Yves Saint Laurent shirt. He casually turned back towards the horrified Debbie. She was quivering against the wall trying not to pass out from fear. A glance towards the open gate gave her thoughts away.

"I know what you're thinking Debbie" said Bruce, "you're wondering if you can run faster when scared than I can when horny. I think we both know the answer to that, don't make me put it to the test".

He took her firmly by the wrist, and knelt down in front of her. Before she had a chance to react he started to massage her gushing vagina with his giant, pointy chin. All thoughts of the previous few minutes left her as they melted away into pure sexual bliss. That chin was as thick as the girthiest penis and as hard as a marble dildo.

"I... I can't hold it in any more!" she screamed and then squirted all over Bruce's face. He stood up, vaginal juices dropping from his chin into a puddle between his tap shoes. "That's my girl" he hissed through clenched teeth.

With that he strode to the drystone wall at the foot of his garden and, silhouetted against the setting sun, bent one knee, flexed his arm and put his clenched fist to his head. 


End file.
